


Hermione Granger and the Non-Conquering Dark Lord

by Lomonaaeren



Series: From Litha to Lammas [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amoral Harry Potter, Established Relationship, F/F, Gore, M/M, Minor Character Death, Present Tense, Shadow magic, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 14:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19443385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: Hermione never thought she would end up as one of Harry Potter’s marked vassals, but here she was. Now she needs to guide Harry Potter the best she can as he prepares to take over the wizarding world. Except he doesn’t appear like he really wants to do it...





	Hermione Granger and the Non-Conquering Dark Lord

**Author's Note:**

> Another of my series set in the Shadow Magic universe. Make sure that you read that one first.
> 
> The gore is only in one scene, but very gory when it appears.

****Hermione regards the wolf-and-lightning symbol in a mirror she’s conjured. Then she nods and steps out of the circle in which she knelt while Potter marked her. She supposes that the painkilling potion trickling through her veins at the minute is making this seem like less of a big deal than it otherwise is, but...

At the same time, she can’t help thinking, _That was_ it?

Everyone she’s talked to made it seem like being marked was a big deal. And Hermione expected pomp and ceremony based on the stories of Death Eaters receiving Dark Marks that she’s read in books and that circulated quietly around Gryffindor Tower. But no, it was just an oath and a potion and a ritual on the night of the new moon. No torches. No chanting. No having to cast the Cruciatus Curse on a hapless Muggle.

Of course, if it had been like that, Hermione never would have chosen to serve Potter anyway. But details.

She looks around, and catches Susan’s eye. Susan smiles at her. She’s one of the first people who Hermione approached about getting the mark and who encouraged her to keep at it when Potter seemed uninterested in placing her among his vassals at first. Now, _now_ , they can be equals.

Well, sort of. Hermione still can’t tell everyone her secret agenda, which is keeping Potter from turning the wizarding world into a cesspit. Now that Voldemort has been defeated and Professor Dumbledore has vanished, it seems that Potter is the one who will take over and change the world.

She can’t do anything from the outside. Hermione accepted that already. Potter is too powerful and everyone in the Ministry seems intent on ignoring the threat, the same way they did when Voldemort first came back to life. So she’ll reform from the inside.

“Come on.” Susan links her arm companionably with Hermione’s. “We’re going back to Theo’s house for a celebration now.”

“Oh.” Hermione glances over her shoulder to watch the other two new vassals leave the circle. One is a Ravenclaw boy she doesn’t know at all, who was a year below her in Hogwarts, and the other is Astoria Greengrass. Greengrass is smiling in an exultant, radiant way that makes Hermione a little uncomfortable. The boy just seems quietly pleased.

“Are you all right?”

“Perfectly,” Hermione says, turning back to Susan, who’s now peering at her as if she’s Madam Pomfrey and will order Hermione to rest any second. “Why?”

“You looked as if you couldn’t understand Astoria’s reaction.”

“Well, I mean...I accept that it’s different for her. I know that the Greengrass family has been Potter’s allies for a long time, and—”

“Our lord.”

“What? I know he is.”

“No, Hermione.” Susan looks pained, and stares off into the distance as if wondering how to phrase this. “I mean that you should address Harry as _our lord_ for a while, until you get used to thinking of him that way. It’s fine to call him by his first name once you get used to it, but I don’t think that you are right now.”

“I did become his vassal willingly,” Hermione protests. Just like she always heard about the Dark Mark, one can’t take the Shadow Lord’s mark unless they’re willing.

“Yes, I know,” Susan says. “But you look as though you think this is, I don’t know, like getting hired at a special office in the Ministry or something. It’s not. It’s much more than that, and I’d like you to promise me that you’ll think about it.”

Hermione shakes her head a little. She doesn’t know what there is to think about. This is a big step, but she made up her mind to do it and chose the mark. “I’ve thought about it, Susan.”

Susan gives a long-suffering sigh that Hermione doesn’t understand, but whisks her away to the party, and it is an interesting experience.

*

“My lord.” Hermione makes sure that her voice is respectful as she comes through the door into the drawing room of what is, apparently, Nott’s house and sits down. She can be plenty respectful. After all, Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived and the most powerful wizard in Britain at the moment as well as the man who marked her. “Do you have time to discuss some of my ideas?”

Potter looks up from juggling a ball of shadow. “Of course, Hermione. I set aside this afternoon for you, after all.”

Hermione flushes, but doesn’t show any sign of discomfort other than that. She won’t let herself. “Of course,” she says brightly back. “I wondered if you could take a look at my plans for the Department and Regulation of Magical Creatures.”

Potter lets the ball of shadow dissipate and stretches out along the couch, looking bemused. “What do you want to do with it?”

“Stop them from persecuting magical creatures, of course,” Hermione says, a little surprised. Hasn’t Potter listened to anything about her campaigns? She thought that was the reason he finally gave in and marked her, after long months of resisting. “I know that you were in Professor Lupin’s Defense classes. Don’t you think it’s _wrong_ for him to have lost his job the way he did?”

“I don’t like Lupin. He kept the fact that he knew my parents from me.”

Hermione blinks. “Oh,” is what she says, and it takes her a moment to rally. “But you would agree that werewolves don’t need to lose their jobs over their affliction?”

“Depends. Are they loyal to me or not?”

“What? What does that have to do with a _detached ethical principle?_ My lord,” Hermione manages to tack on to the end, not keeping the irritation out of her voice.

“Because I only act when someone loyal to me is threatened,” Potter says, as if that makes sense or is ethically defensible.

“I don’t really believe that, my lord. After all, you defeated Voldemort.” Months since the end of the war means Hermione can say the name without flinching.

“Only because he threatened Theodore. I was willing to let the stupid bastard live until then.”

Hermione finds himself with nothing to say. This isn’t at all the kind of man she thought she would confront. She thought she would have to beat back evil impulses, not—drag him out of his shell.

“But why?” she settles for asking. “After all, Voldemort wanted to kill you, too, because you defeated him when you were a baby.”

Potter shrugs and sits up on the couch. The shadows stretch around him like a cloak. Hermione doesn’t think that he even realizes how much he uses them. It’s more as if they’re a fifth limb. “He came back sane because he used the Philosopher’s Stone. We could have struck a deal. He could have left me alone and I would have left him alone. But he was too much of an arse to give up on claiming Theodore. Just because the Death Eaters swore themselves to him, he thought he had first claim on all of their children, too.”

Hermione stares in horror. Potter tilts his head at her. “What?” he asks, and something like a warning thrum runs through Hermione’s mark.

“You—I thought you were a Dark Lord.”

“I am. Sort of.”

“But I thought you cared about the world enough to want to harm it,” Hermione continues in a small voice, hardly believing the words even as she says them. “It hardly sounds as though you care about anything.”

“The people who swore themselves to me.”

“But—you don’t want to reform laws? Change the wizarding world? Make sure that Muggleborns have more rights? Or pure-bloods, even? You don’t want to research the cause of your shadow magic?” Hermione knows she sounds like she’s begging, but she expected an _opponent._ Not this, whatever it is.

“I have a fairly good grasp on what causes my shadow magic, I think, and it’s not something that’s likely to fade or leave me alone.” For some reason, Potter is smiling, his eyes bright green with mischief. “But no, I don’t want to do any of the other things you named. Why would I?”

Hermione looks at him and thinks about all the things she could say, but she has to admit, they’re not likely to have much impact on him if what she’s said so far hasn’t. “What is the source of your shadow magic?” she asks, since that seems to be the one thing he was willing to talk about.

“That’s not something I share with just anyone, Hermione.”

“I know. But I’m one of your vassals now.”

“I know,” Potter echoes her. “That’s why I can remember your name.” He sits up. “Well, if you don’t have anything else to say, perhaps you can go home.”

Hermione lets her mouth fall open and shakes the binders she brought at him. “But I have so much to _talk_ to you about! Laws, unfair discrimination, reducing the privileges the pure-bloods can claim! Why aren’t we talking?”

“Because I don’t care about any of those things.” Potter props his chin on a palm and watches her, cool and amused. “You’re one of my vassals, which means that I’ll protect you and that I’ll try to help you with what you want to achieve—”

“Then—”

“Without changing the way I normally act.” Potter yawns a little. “If you want money to succeed in your endeavors, I can give you that. Merlin knows I’m not going to use all of mine. I can also introduce you to people in the Ministry who might share your goals and might be willing to work with Muggleborns. But I’m not going to go out and transform into a conqueror because you want me to.”

“I don’t want that! I want to _stop_ you from being a conqueror!”

“Huh?”

Hermione flushes. The way Potter makes the sound isn’t flattering. “I know that you’re going to take over the wizarding world someday,” she says, tilting her chin up. “That’s exactly the reason I wanted to be your vassal. I thought that I could influence you to use your power for good instead of evil.”

Potter stares at her with his eyebrows arched a little and his lips slightly parted. Hermione gets the sensation that it’s the equivalent for him of a dropped jaw from anyone else.

Then he stands, shakes his head with a small snort, and says, “Go home, Hermione,” before he strides across the room. Hermione jumps to her feet, because she’s not about to be dismissed like that, but Potter walks into a shadow.

And vanishes.

Hermione shivers. She has forgotten how unnerving it is when Potter does that, especially since she’s only watched his shadow magic in operation a few times to know what she’s looking at.

She glances around the sitting room. There are multiple shadows flickering from the large fire, and a torch somewhere upstairs is casting light down the steps, which means there are more, and Potter could be standing in any one of them, watching her, moving around behind her, getting ready to follow her.

She packs up her binders and goes home.

*

“Why did you join Potter?”

Susan gives her an odd glance as she pours another cup of tea. Padma is asleep on a couch across the room, which Hermione knows is the reason that Susan’s glance morphs into a smile for an instant as she looks past her. It’s certainly nothing Hermione did herself. “Why do you call him by his last name?”

“You said I should be more formal,” Hermione protests, picking up the tea. Already, this feels as if it’s going wrong. It’s become a depressingly familiar feeling over the last few days.

She’s talked to several other fellow vassals about how she can persuade Potter around to supporting a progressive agenda. All of them just stared at her. Finally, Hermione decided that she should speak to Susan, who has been with Potter longer than any of the others Hermione chose, and get a clear answer.

“That sounds like you’re about to start scolding him any second, though. He’s not a Hogwarts student any longer, Hermione, and you’re not a prefect.”

That just causes Hermione to remember that when she and Susan were both prefects, Susan was a marked vassal of Potter’s and serving someone who was planning to defeat Voldemort and destroy the Dementors. She changes the subject. “I know. I just—I want to know more about what people who get their projects supported by him do.”

“You know he would be willing to support almost anything if you can convince him it’s a good idea.”

“But I can’t convince him! How did you do it?”

“I wanted vengeance because Voldemort murdered my aunt.” Susan cradles the cup in her hands and peers at Hermione as if seriously doubting her sanity. “He promised to protect me and help me along the way to get that vengeance, and in return, I did things like shelter him and Theodore in my house and help them with the research they needed.”

“Research?” Hermione is torn between approval and aggravation that no one ever asked _her_ to help with that research.

“Yes, about the things we needed to do to destroy Voldemort.” Susan looks at her again. “But you didn’t join for vengeance.”

“No, I joined to make the world a better place.”

“You can still do that. Just don’t expect our lord to care.”

Hermione sits back, confounded. She knows Potter cares on a regular basis. She’s heard the rumors—always just rumors—of him destroying people. She watched the way he marched into the Great Hall with his shadow magic flaring around him before he went to fight Voldemort on Azkaban. And there’s the mysterious disappearance of Professor Dumbledore right after he said in an Order of the Phoenix meeting that something would have to be done about “young Potter.”

“What kind of impact does he want to make on the world, then?”

Susan smiles. It looks unexpectedly fond. “Honestly? He wishes more people would leave him alone.”

“But he marks all sorts of vassals! He marked you!”

“Mostly either to protect us, like people who were being bullied, or because we wouldn’t go away and stop pestering him. Except maybe for Theodore. There, it’s different. A word of advice, Hermione: don’t ever bother Theodore.”

“I already did, before my marking, and it wasn’t a problem.”

Susan snorts. “Then believe me, our lord didn’t think of what you did as ‘bothering.’” Her voice softens. “Hermione, what’s really the matter? I know that you’re smarter than to think he would agree to all your plans right away.”

Hermione takes a deep breath. Susan wants her to be honest, she’ll be honest. “He’s raising an army. He destroys his enemies or anyone who gets in the way of his vassals, and no one dares stand up against him. I know that he’s planning to take over the Ministry. I’m just trying to soften that takeover. Make sure that some of the ideals I love and people like me love are represented in the new world order.”

A moment later, Padma stirs and complains, “Susan, I was taking a _nap._ What are you laughing about?”

*

Hermione sits in front of her own fire and frowns at the mantel, and the photographs that stand above it. One is of the Order of the Phoenix the way they were in the summer between sixth and seventh years, when they were gathering intelligence and preparing to fight a war. Professor Dumbledore stands with one hand on her shoulder and one hand on Sirius Black’s, his smile soft and grim. It was a challenging time, but Hermione always believed they would win.

She doesn’t feel that way now.

She nibbles at her sandwich and frowns. Potter is clearly powerful. He’s clearly not always on the right side of the law (she shies away from “evil” because she doesn’t know for sure if he did do something to Professor Dumbledore, and most of the other things he admitted to were in the middle of a battle). He has the vassals that usually follow a Dark Lord around.

But he _doesn’t_ want to take over the Ministry? He’ll fund her projects but he doesn’t care that much if they succeed?

It’s baffling.

*

“Can I, um, talk to you, Nott?”

Theodore Nott nods at her briefly, and tosses the _Daily Prophet_ he just bought into a basket hanging over his arm. “Of course. And call me Theodore. We are both his now.”

Theodore doesn’t say that loudly, since they’re in the middle of Diagon Alley, but he doesn’t say it quietly, either. The people who are shopping around them glance at them but don’t linger and stare. Hermione is about ready to give up on what exactly she _should_ be doing or saying or thinking. There’s no logic to it.

“Why did you join him?”

“I started seeing Harry as my lord our first year at Hogwarts. There was no reason not to join him.”

Hermione sighs. “That doesn’t help. I just want to know what his political ideals and beliefs are, and I thought I could learn that by talking to the other vassals, so I could know how much he would want to fund me and what he plans to do with the Ministry.”

Theodore looks up from studying beetle eyes at an outdoor apothecary. “He doesn’t plan to do anything with the Ministry.”

“But it can’t go on existing the way it is!”

“Why not?”

“Because—because!” Hermione is angry to find that she just doesn’t have the words, but angrier that Theodore can think that the Ministry is fine the way it is. She waves her hands around and steps in front of him when Theodore sticks the scoop in the beetle eyes and pours them out to take a closer look. “It’s horrible to Muggleborns and magical creatures! It’s full of corruption! People bribe each other on a regular basis!”

“But I don’t see how that affects you, unless you want to work there.”

“Of course I want to work there! I want to change things!”

Theodore gently pushes her aside and sorts through the beetle eyes with the scoop again while still speaking to her. “Then talk to Harry. He can introduce you to some of our fellow vassals who work there.”

“I want to succeed on my own merits!”

“Then why did you get marked?”

“Oh, it’s all very well for _you_ , standing there! You’re a pure-blood and you’ve never had to work a day in your life! You’re Potter’s favored vassal! It doesn’t affect _you_ if the Ministry forces werewolves to register or declares giant-hunting legal or goes around Memory Charming Muggles.”

“No,” Theodore says peacefully, “it doesn’t.”

Hermione stares at him again. Then she says, “What are our lord’s political ideals?”

Theodore smiles in a way to shows his teeth a little. “He doesn’t have any.”

“You can’t just accumulate power the way he does without having them! Anyway, he chose a political side when he defeated Voldemort.”

“He did that because Voldemort annoyed him by making a claim to me. And he got rid of the Dementors because they corrupted the shadows that Harry travels through and he hated them for that. Everything for him is personal, Hermione. And I know that you might be able to say that should make him more political, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t have to care about Muggle-baiting or giant-hunting or werewolf registration any more than I do, unless he chooses to.”

“But that means he...he commits murder and genocide on a whim?”

“No, because he wanted to, and it was too much bother to let them go on existing in the world. It was also too much bother to have you nagging him constantly, so that’s why he agreed to mark you.”

Hermione feels her mouth fall open. She thought it was one of two things: either Potter was genuinely interested in her ideas, or he thought she was dangerous and would be better off marked. But she never guessed this.

“He’ll help you,” Theodore says, with the kind of quiet conviction that pure-bloods seem to think will make everything better. “He’ll do anything for someone marked as his.”

“Except care. Except get involved in politics.” Hermione can hear the bitterness in her voice, but she doesn’t know how to hide it.

Theodore gives her an extremely patient look. “If that’s the only way to support what you want, then yes, that’s what he’d do. But so far, I don’t think it is. You say you want to earn your position on your own merits, so you don’t want him to intervene in hiring for you. You say you want him to listen, but I think it’s a certain _kind_ of listening, and I doubt you’ve explained how it would help yet. There are things he would do, but you need to get rid of the expectation that you have a tame Dark Lord here, and decide how you’re going to proceed now that you know.”

“It’s extremely inconvenient.” Hermione folds her arms.

“For him to turn out to be less evil than you thought he was?” And Theodore is laughing at her, Hermione’s sure, in that reserved, cool way that’s just as much a guffaw for him as the parted lips were a dropped jaw for Potter.

“He’s so different than I thought he was,” Hermione whispers. “I knew he wasn’t the hero, the Boy-Who-Lived, but this Shadow Lord business isn’t what I thought, either. I thought...”

“He doesn’t want to take over the world, Hermione. He wants to make sure that his own are safe, and himself. That’s it.”

“That’s so reactive, though.”

Theodore shrugs. “It’s the way he is. Honestly, if people had been paying attention in school, they would have noticed that already. He didn’t go around threatening the ones who _might_ hurt or bully people. He threatened the ones who did. He didn’t get himself involved in that Chamber of Secrets nonsense or go charging to seek out Black, either, when they still thought he was going to kill Harry.”

“The Chamber of Secrets I don’t understand at _all._ A student’s life was in danger.”

“And why would another student, a twelve-year-old, be the best one to handle it? Why not a grown adult? Which is what ended up happening, as much as I know about it.”

Hermione opens her mouth, then closes it. It’s strange, but the way Professor Dumbledore told them about it seems threadbare now, even though it was only a few years ago. He said that Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived and _ought_ to have done something about it, because the Chamber of Secrets was to do with Voldemort.

But now that Hermione thinks about it, did Harry even know that? Ginny wasn’t one of his friends no matter how much she wanted to be. And the artifact that Professor Dumbledore hinted darkly was causing trouble is probably something Harry never saw.

“If you want to understand? Talk to him.” Theodore is paying for the beetle eyes, and he smiles a little at her before he moves on to the next apothecary.

“Yes,” Hermione says to herself. “Maybe I will.” And she marches away with her head higher than it was. She might have to request an appointment with Harry since that’s the way he usually does things, but maybe she can learn the truth from him as long as she listens with an open mind.

It’s unfortunate, she thinks later, that she didn’t notice the person following her down Diagon Alley.

*

Hermione screams into her gag, but there’s no one to hear her, and the first thing they did was take her wand.

She’s bound to a chair in the cellar of a house that’s large and old; that’s all she really saw of it before they bundled her into the cellar. She didn’t see faces, either, since they grabbed her from behind and they were wearing a hooded cloak. She has no idea why she’s here, and they seem to have stabbed her in the shoulder with something, because it burns and it’s itchy. She hopes it’s not a potion.

“The Mudblood.”

Hermione actually jumps in place. The wizard in front of her must have just removed a Disillusionment Charm, but even that’s not as startling as the sight of his face. All his features are twisted as if someone made them out of molten wax and then didn’t care to keep them looking like a human’s.

It’s the blond hair that tips her off who this is, since neither his face nor even his voice is really recognizable anymore.

“Malfoy,” she whispers into the gag, and even though she didn’t technically speak it, he seems to understand anyway. The twisted lips writhe in a parody of a grin.

“He dared to do this to me,” Malfoy says, pacing around the cellar, waving his arms. Hermione can only understand his words a few beats after he speaks them, and by thinking hard, because there’s just no likelihood his teeth and tongue are functioning in the same way. “He thought he could get away with it. Well, he _can’t_!” He spins around with spittle flying from his lips and stabs a finger at her. Hermione jumps again. Yes, he must have given her a potion. The room is wavering and spinning in her sight.

“You’re going to be the example, Granger.”

Hermione swallows. She understands that he has some grudge against Potter, but she can’t understand why he took her. Why her, of anyone? Surely it would be better to kidnap Susan or Theodore or someone else who’s been with Potter for a long time. She can’t even get her “lord” to pay attention to the most basic ideas about the Ministry.

On the other hand, maybe that’s the point. Maybe Malfoy took a Muggleborn who won’t be missed. He has to be afraid of Potter. Snatching the weakest target is surely the point.

Her shoulder is _really_ burning now, and Hermione can barely see past the film that’s covering her eyes. She shivers, wondering if she should hope that Malfoy kills her before the potion, or the other way around.

“He’ll pay for showing disrespect to the noble house of Malfoy...”

Malfoy’s voice cuts off. Hermione shivers again. She’s gone deaf. The potion must have that as a side-effect. She would start crying even harder, but she doesn’t think she’ll live long enough to really absorb the terrible impact.

But maybe she can still see, so she strains her eyes as hard as she can, trying to see past the film covering them.

That’s when she realizes it’s not really a film. The potion must be blinding her, too, because the room is much darker than it was, as if all the torches on the walls have gone out. And she’s colder. The burning in her shoulder feels like—

Feels like it did the night she was marked.

“You touched one of mine, Malfoy.”

The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once, and now Hermione can see, because her vision readjusts to what’s actually in front of her and not what she expects to be there. The torches are still present as muted light, but the shadows are stretching out in front of her and swirling around Malfoy’s feet, and Hermione can see some of them assuming the forms of pointed heads, serrated teeth, flicking tongues.

Malfoy’s voice didn’t cut off because she went deaf. Malfoy’s voice cut off because he’s bloody terrified. It’s hard to make out the expression on his damaged face, but Hermione manages.

“It’s—it’s not what you think.” Malfoy is backing up with his wand in his hand, and he says something then that Hermione honestly can’t make out, between the strange angle of his mouth and the fear in his voice.

“Yes, it is. Hermione.” The voice seems to turn towards Hermione, although she doesn’t actually see anything of Potter—of Harry. Only the head of one of the shadow creatures turns to face her. “You may want to close your eyes.”

Later, Hermione thinks she should have listened.

But she keeps her eyes open, because she thinks she should bear witness to something that’s done for her, and so she sees the shadow-beasts grip the sides of Malfoy’s body and pull him in half. There’s a thick, wet noise like the world’s bloodiest rope giving way, and then there’s screaming that stops and bits of bone and flesh and muscle staining the floor and there’s a hand curling towards her and Hermione’s trying to vomit behind her gag.

A hand pulls it out of her mouth before that can happen. Harry strokes her hair and steps out of the way as she vomits on the floor, then casts a spell to clean it up. He even casts a Breath-Freshening Charm while he’s at it, and then conjures a glass and water.

Hermione is trembling when she takes it from him, after he unbinds her hands. There’s no way she can look at the thing on the floor again. Luckily, Harry stands in the way so she doesn’t have to.

“I c-can’t—couldn’t—”

“I know,” Harry says comfortingly, exactly as if he understands the purpose behind her babbling. “It’s all right. I can track my vassals through the mark. I felt your fear and distress and I came. I did hesitate a bit to make sure that Malfoy was alone and to see if he would reveal his motives. I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to be,” Hermione says, and stops talking. She thinks that he will never be sorry for what she thinks he should be. She’s remembering what Theodore said was the only thing Harry cares about.

_He wants to make sure that his own are safe, and himself. That’s it._

Harry came for her and killed without mercy or hesitation because she’s one of his.

Hermione allows Harry to assist her out of the cellar, to Apparate her home, and to make all the arrangements he’ll need to make about Malfoy’s sudden disappearance. Hermione isn’t interested in anything about them.

She sleeps in her bed that night, starting awake several times because she wants to make sure it isn’t dark. The fire in her room comforts her less than the shadow-beast curled in a huge circle around her bed, watching and alert every time she looks.

*

“So I’ve decided that I’d like for you to make some introductions in the Ministry for me.”

Harry smiles at her, lounging on his couch in Nott House again, the way he always seems to be when Hermione visits. “Wonderful. I’ll let Neville know. He’s looking to climb the ranks, too.”

Hermione blinks, very hard, over the news that shy, timid Neville Longbottom is looking to do that, but on the other hand, she’s had to accept recently that she doesn’t know a _lot_ about some people she thought she did. “Okay. Thanks. And—”

“I’m sorry that I let Malfoy hurt you.” Harry grimaces. “I wanted to let him live with his disfigured face because that was Theodore’s revenge, but I should have kept a close enough eye on him to realize he was a danger to my other vassals.”

“Um. I don’t blame you, my lord.” That title comes more easily to Hermione’s tongue than it ever has.

“But I blame myself. I promise that I’ll protect you. You can count on me.”

And Hermione knows she can. Just not for the things she thought she could, or that Professor Dumbledore thought they could.

Harry Potter isn’t the Dark Lord she thought he was, intent on taking over the Ministry. He isn’t the hero Professor Dumbledore tried to portray him as. He’s as neutral as an animal, as a shadow, except for the extension of his power over the people who have accepted his mark.

“Now,” Harry says, reaching out to take a glass of lemonade from a shadow skimming towards him. It’s probably come from the kitchen. “Tell me what else you’re going to need. What you want to do.”

And Hermione, the new perspective settling around her shoulders like a cloak, does.


End file.
